Chapter 8 – A sweet night
The city hadn't gone back to sleep yet.
Sirens cried in the distance. Cars screamed through wet streets. Somewhere below, people laughed, argued, lived—unaware of how close everything had come to breaking.
Above it all, on a lonely rooftop, the night was calm.
Stars glittered like scattered diamonds. The moon hung high, pale and watchful, pouring silver light across the concrete. The darkness didn't feel empty—it felt heavy, like it was listening.
Lady Moon sat against the wall, knees pulled close, her breathing shallow. Her outfit was torn, scorched in places, dusted with ash. A thin tremble ran through her arms—not from fear, but from exhaustion finally catching up.
Across from her, Ace stood quietly.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't reach for cuffs.
Didn't speak.
He just watched her face, the way someone studies a storm that's already passed, trying to understand what it destroyed.
Lady Moon snapped first.
"What do you want from me?" she barked, voice sharp but tired. "Just take me to jail already."
She looked away, jaw clenched.
Mitchell… I'm sorry.
Your mom failed you.
Forgive me.
Ace finally spoke, his voice low, controlled.
"You were working with the mafia," he said. "Franklin. I know him. That armband—he's high up."
She stiffened.
"I ran into him years ago," Ace continued. "A turf war. He doesn't forget faces."
Silence stretched.
"So tell me," Ace said. "Why him? What's the connection… and why Emma?"
Lady Moon let out a bitter laugh.
"I don't know why Emma," she said. "I swear that part wasn't explained to me."
She glanced at Ace, eyes hard.
"And I'm not working for the mafia. I took a job. That's it. If I say anything more, I'll be hunted."
"They won't touch you," Ace said immediately.
She scoffed.
"You don't know them."
"I do," Ace replied, voice steady. "And I won't let them hurt you. I'll protect you."
Lady Moon shook her head slowly.
"Give up," she whispered. "You can't save me. I went against a high-ranking member. Word will spread. And when it does… they won't just come for me."
Her voice cracked for the first time.
"They'll come for my son."
Ace's expression shifted—not panic, not anger—resolve.
"I have a plan," he said. "But I need you to trust me."
She laughed softly, broken.
"Trust," she repeated. "That's funny."
But something in his tone—no ego, no threat—made her hesitate.
Slowly, with shaking hands, Lady Moon reached up.
She removed her hat.
Then her mask.
Moonlight washed over her face, revealing Mandy.
Ace's eyes widened—just for a second.
He remembered the gambling table. The sharp smile. The way she'd watched everyone like she was already losing.
But he didn't react.
Didn't expose her.
Didn't say her name.
"I won't ask you to take off your mask," Mandy said quietly. "You wear it for a reason. You're a symbol."
She swallowed.
"I'm just a thief."
Ace said nothing.
"I steal because I have to," she continued. "Because money decides everything. My son deserves better than the life I had. Better than this."
Her fists clenched.
"The boss offered eighty thousand. For Emma. I needed that money. For school. For a future."
Ace looked down, the city lights reflecting in his mask.
"Moms are important," he said softly. "The most important thing in the world."
She looked up.
"My mom wanted the best for me too," Ace continued. "She made deals she shouldn't have. With people she trusted."
His voice dropped.
"It got her killed."
Mandy's breath caught.
Ace met her eyes.
"There's still time," he said. "Time to change. To live. To be there for your son."
He paused.
"He needs his mother."
A tear slipped down Mandy's cheek.
Ace straightened.
"Here's the plan," he said. "I take you in."
Her head snapped up.
"Officially," he added. "It looks clean. Ace and Bruno arrest Lady Moon. The money gets 'lost' in the chaos."
He leaned closer.
"But in reality—you keep it. For your son."
Her lips parted, stunned.
"You won't stay locked up long," Ace continued. "I'll make sure of it. And Franklin?"
A pause.
"I know someone who can fix his memory. He'll remember you fighting with him, not against him."
Mandy stared at him.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why help me?"
Ace didn't hesitate.
"Because you saved Emma," he said. "Because you chose a child over money."
He held out his hand.
"And because I believe people deserve a second chance."
Mandy looked at his hand.
Thought of Emma.
Thought of Mitchell.
Thought of the life she almost lost.
Then she took it.
For the first time that night, she smiled
Emma woke up to white.
White walls. White sheets. The steady beep… beep… beep of a heart monitor reminding her she was still here.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then memory rushed in.
Franklin's face.
Cold hands pulling her away.
The dark factory.
Fire—cards—light.
Ace.
Bruno.
Lady Moon.
Emma pushed herself upright, chest tight.
I hope she's okay, Emma thought. I hope Lady Moon is safe.
The door opened.
"Emma!"
Her grandparents rushed in before she could say another word. Her grandmother pulled her into a tight hug, sobbing openly, her shoulders shaking. Her grandfather stood close, hand on Emma's back, eyes wet but trying to stay strong.
"We were so scared," her grandmother cried. "Kidnapped again… twice in two months… I thought we lost you."
Emma smiled, even though her throat hurt.
"I'm okay," she said softly. "I promise."
As they talked, Emma listened more than she spoke. Two months felt like a lifetime. So much had happened—Aya, the school, the powers she never asked for.
Her grandfather's voice shifted.
"It's strange," he said slowly. "A normal girl being kidnapped twice."
Emma's heart skipped.
"We went to see that other girl," her grandmother added. "Aya."
The room felt colder.
"And the people there," her grandfather continued. "The Morning-Stars. They're mutants."
Emma's smile faded.
"And… you are too," her grandmother said gently. "Why didn't you tell us?"
Emma swallowed.
"I-it's fine," she said quickly. "Everything's under control. I'm still me."
They exchanged a look.
"We've been calling doctors," her grandfather said. "Specialists. People who might be able to help. Maybe… fix this."
The word hit like a slap.
"Fix me?" Emma repeated.
Her voice shook.
"I'm not broken," she said. "There's nothing wrong with me."
Her grandmother hesitated. "We just want you safe."
Emma stood up now, hands trembling.
"You're scared of me," she said. "Don't lie."
"No—"
"You are!" Emma snapped. "I'm still human. I just have a gift."
Her grandfather sighed.
"We think it's better if you stay away from that school," he said. "From Aya. From Mr. Morning-Star."
The last thread snapped.
"That's my family!" Emma shouted. "Those are my friends. They understand me."
"We're your family," her grandmother said, voice cracking. "We're trying to help."
Emma's eyes burned.
"No," she whispered. "You're trying to make me disappear."
Silence.
Then Emma screamed.
"Get out."
Her grandparents froze.
"Please," she cried. "Just—get out."
They left slowly, the door clicking shut behind them.
Emma sank back onto the bed.
She stared out the window, city lights blurring through tears.
"I'm scared too," she whispered to the glass.
"But you don't even see me anymore."
Apollo Weston stood at the head of the table like the room had been built for him.
White tailored pants. A crisp white blazer. Black shirt. Black tie pulled tight with intention. White shoes, spotless. White socks. Black belt. His white hair was slicked back, flawless.
He smiled.
Confident. Relaxed. Untouchable.
"The future," Apollo said calmly, pacing in front of the executives, "is not power."
A hologram ignited behind him—biometric devices rotating slowly in the air.
"It's control."
The room leaned in.
"These devices," Apollo continued, "can identify threats in seconds. DNA mapping. Neural patterns. Predictive response. No chaos. No guessing."
Murmurs spread across the table.
"Crime collapses. Streets stabilize. And profits?" He chuckled softly. "Historic."
Then his tone shifted—just slightly.
"And let me be clear," he said, stopping. "This technology will destroy sneak organizations. Gangs. Mafias. Hidden powers operating in the dark."
Applause broke out.
People stood. Smiles. Handshakes. Praise.
The meeting ended quickly after that.
One by one, the room emptied—until only Apollo and one assistant remained.
The doors closed.
Silence.
Apollo walked down the private corridor into his office. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city below, glowing as night settled in. He sat behind his desk, unbuttoning his blazer.
The assistant hesitated. "Sir… about what you said in there."
Apollo didn't look at them.
"The city," he said calmly, "is already controlled by three forces."
He raised one finger.
"The mafia."
A second.
"Ace."
Then a third.
"And me."
The assistant swallowed.
"Sneak," Apollo continued, leaning back, "wants to be a fourth hand on the wheel."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"There will be no fourth hand."
He stood and walked toward the window.
"I will be the only king of this city."
The assistant shifted nervously. "So… you really intend to destroy sneak?"
Apollo paused.
His reflection stared back at him in the glass.
"I intend to erase the organization," he said smoothly. "Burn its name. Break its structure. Frost it until nothing recognizable remains."
He turned, smiling again.
"But what grows after that?" he added. "That depends on who survives the cold."
The assistant frowned. "So… are you lying to the public?"
Apollo laughed quietly.
"No," he said. "I'm telling them exactly what they want to hear."
He looked back at the city.
"And exactly enough of the truth."
The car moved slowly down the quiet street.
Mandy sat behind the wheel in simple street clothes—nothing flashy, nothing that hinted at Lady Moon. Just a mother driving her son somewhere he didn't fully understand.
Mitchell was slouched in the passenger seat, half-asleep, his Switch resting loosely in his hands. His eyes were heavy, blinking more than playing.
"Mom," he mumbled, rubbing his face, "why did you wake me up so late just to come here?"
Mandy smiled, keeping her eyes on the road.
"A new job opportunity came up," she said gently. "They needed me right away."
Mitchell yawned. "That sounds boring."
She laughed softly. "It probably is."
After a moment, she added, "If you want to go to a friend's house while I'm gone, just tell someone. And if you ever need to talk to me… ask Dr. Morning-Star. He'll help you get in contact."
Mitchell looked at her now, more awake.
"How long are you gonna be gone?"
Mandy's fingers tightened on the steering wheel—just for a second.
"Two weeks," she said. "Or less. I'm hoping less."
The car slowed.
Ahead of them stood the Morning-Star School, lights glowing warmly in the night. Safe. Quiet. Alive.
They parked.
As they stepped out, the cool air wrapped around them. Bruno stood near the gate, leaning casually, giving Mandy a nod as he opened it for them.
Inside, Mandy knelt in front of Mitchell, adjusting his backpack straps, smoothing his hair. She pulled him into a tight hug—just a second too long.
"When I come back," she whispered, hiding her shaking voice, "things will be better. We'll do everything we talked about. I promise."
Mitchell hugged her back just as tight.
"I can't wait," he said. "I love you."
"I love you more," Mandy replied, smiling through tears she refused to let fall.
Footsteps approached.
Mr. Morning-Star stepped out of the mansion, calm and welcoming. Mandy nodded to him—respectful, grateful.
Mitchell's eyes lit up as kids his age ran out, laughing, calling him over.
"Come on!" one of them shouted.
Mitchell turned back one last time, waved, then followed them inside, excitement replacing his tiredness.
Mandy watched until the door closed.
She turned away from the house, walking toward the gate.
Ace stood there, waiting.
Inside the mansion, Mitchell placed his bag down in a shared room. Other kids crowded around him, asking questions, showing him games, pulling him into conversation like he'd always belonged there.
Laughter filled the space.
Outside, Mandy took one last breath—holding onto the sound.
Then she stepped forward.
The streets were quieter now.
Streetlights stretched long shadows across the pavement as Ace and Lady Moon walked side by side toward the police station. The city felt calmer—like it was holding its breath.
Mandy's steps slowed.
She leaned slightly, her hand gripping Ace's arm. At first it was light. Then a little tighter.
Ace felt it.
He glanced down, meeting her eyes. She looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally. Like someone who had finally stopped running.
"Hey," he said softly. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay."
She exhaled. "Yeah… I know."
They walked a little farther.
Then Ace smirked. "Your son's gonna have a pretty cool father figure while you're gone."
Mandy raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're right. Mr. Morning-Star will be great."
Ace shook his head. "That's not who I meant."
She looked at him now. "Oh?"
"He's married," Ace said casually. "Already found his bird. Me?"
He shrugged. "I'm still looking for mine."
Mandy laughed quietly. "I stopped looking for my bird after Mitchell."
A beat.
"…But," she added, "maybe I'll start looking again."
Ace smiled. "I wonder why."
They both laughed—real laughter this time. The kind that releases pressure.
Without thinking, they slowed. The noise of the city faded into the background as they swayed slightly, like a quiet dance in the middle of the street. No music. Just the moment.
Then Ace grew serious.
"The plan stays the same," he said. "Dr. Morning-Star will use her telekinesis to adjust Franklin's memories. He won't remember you turning against him. He won't remember you saving Emma. And he won't remember the money."
Mandy nodded.
"It has to look like you didn't escape," Ace continued. "If you did, the boss would see it as betrayal. This way… you're safe."
"And someone's paying my bail," Mandy said.
"Yes."
She looked at him. "I trust you."
Ace stopped walking.
"So do I."
Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and removed his mask.
Mandy froze.
Her breath caught as his face came into view—familiar, unmistakable.
"Roman…?" she whispered.
A flash of memory hit her—the gambling table, the smirk, the eyes.
"Why?" she asked softly, reaching up, her fingers brushing his cheek. "Why show me?"
"Because," Roman said, "I trust you too."
He tilted his head slightly. "So… how do I look?"
She smiled—wide and honest.
"Devilishly handsome."
Mandy reached up and removed her own mask.
No more Lady Moon. Just Mandy.
They stepped into each other's arms, holding on—not desperate, not rushed. Just human.
Then they pulled apart.
Together, they walked again.
The police station lights came into view.
Officers rushed forward. Handcuffs clicked into place.
Mandy didn't resist.
She looked back once.
Roman nodded.
And she smiled.
End of Chapter